Life & Death
by Hyperminimalism
Summary: Vincent thought it had ended on that fateful day in the sky, they all did. But isn't that what life is? Full of surprises. Eventual Cid/Vincent and Dirge of Cerberus spoilers
1. 01

**01**

Sand billowed into the air as the massive ship hovered overhead. It stirred the land, rustled the trees and sent wind in every direction. The small silhouettes that lingered below had to shield their eyes from the forceful gusts, but the propellers never stopped spinning. At a sluggish pace they remained steady; awaiting the moment the ship would depart, but for now—the cargo.

There were only a handful of them assigned to the mission, Reeve explained, so it took little time to board and get the ship back into the air. But Cid had been told that one of them was injured on the job, and with quite injured at that. He could hardly believe his eyes as they brought the unconscious dark-haired man into a room which had been marked off as a makeshift infirmary. Inside, a trained medic from their group tended to him as properly as he could with what tools were available, but it wouldn't be enough until they arrived back in Edge.

It seemed like hours when the door finally opened; the pilot had already gone through a handful of cigarettes as he waited anxiously outside, leaning against the wall in the corridor.

"Well?"

The man didn't look too upset—_that must be a good sign_, Cid thought.

"He's stable now. All the same, it'll be best when we get to headquarters."

"…Is it alright if I—?"

"Yeah; it's fine. Not to long, though. He needs to rest."

With a bit of hesitance at first, Cid slipped into the room as quietly as possible only to find the gunman lying on a cot with a blanket pulled up to his chest. They'd removed his shirt and wrapped gauze around a minor wound stemming from his shoulder, but he couldn't see what caught his attention earlier.

The golden gauntlet that encased his left forearm was no where to be found and neither was his left forearm. But that couldn't have been right. Sure, Vincent had never told anyone what really hid under that glove, though it now appeared to be nothing at all. Perhaps it made some sort of strange sense? Hojo must have had something to do with it…

Under the blanket, Vincent stirred as a frown washed over his face. He roused a few moments later from a brief unconsciousness and woke with a start at the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Hey, take it easy," Cid said softly, immediately rushing to his side; the blanket slid down far enough that it exposed the golden ring that would be connected to the gauntlet had it still been there.

Unconsciously and accidentally, the pilot's hand gently brushed against Vincent's bare skin but as a reaction he jerked away, much too embarrassed at the position he was in. Cid didn't take the response lightly either and backed away enough to feign a comfort zone and turned his gaze away, at least for the time being. There was nothing more he could do after all.

"The medic just treated you."

The only response Vincent gave was some sort of inaudible grunt and he pulled the blanket up to hide his arm. You could cut the tension with a butter knife in that room.

"How are you, uh…feeling?"

"Where is it?"

Cid blinked and thought to himself what in the world could he be asking. Then it hit him.

"I'm not sure…"

_This is bad. I should leave._

He cleared his throat before heading for the door, paused just as his hand grazed the knob and opened his mouth to speak, but the words would not come. What could he say in a situation like this? And therefore, what could Vincent reply with? The pilot sighed at the thought and dropped his head.

"We'll be in Edge soon," he added before departing, and stepped out of the room into the hall. Cid leaned against the door to calm his nerves. They were all over the place and his heart pounded like a hammer against metal in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so much unease.

"Captain?" To his surprise and somewhat relief, from around the corner, a crewman appeared. "You're needed on the deck."


	2. 02

**02**

They carried their conversation in the hall from the ship where Reeve greeted them with just as much shock as the pilot had. He was beyond surprised, speechless to see the damage for himself. Cid could not accurately describe over the phone just how distressing the extent of Vincent's situation had been, but when he got a look for himself, even the director could hardly believe his eyes.

When the door opened both men paused in silence and turned to face the gunner, all attention on him.

Their eyes met briefly but Cid could read that look on his face. He excused himself from the conversation to catch up with the gunman, but Vincent never lost his stride.

"Wait a minute, you're just gonna take off? What did the doctor say? You were in there for a while…"

"It doesn't matter."

Doesn't matter? Well it was true he didn't look so bad now; in fact, had only a few spots of dirt lingering on his clothing which would have otherwise been torn, though Cid would've never guessed he'd been without his _arm_…

"Are you going to be alright?"

"As alright as one could be."

_There he goes again…_

The sarcasm was a trademark of his. Vincent always had something smart to say, especially if it concerned him, but it was obvious that he did not want the pilot prying into his personal or medical affairs.

Cid brought a hand to grasp Vincent's wrist and the gunman stopped dead in his tracks.

Their gazes met with a powerful, almost painful twinge that Cid felt deep in his chest only to immediately let go.

Vincent gave him one last look before turning back the way he was headed. And then he disappeared without another word, as if nothing ever happened.

- - -

He sat propped against the headboard on the bed surrounded by an array of engineering books, each one lined with hand written notes that sometimes even he couldn't read. It mattered little to the pilot as most of them were only there as reminders; at his age and with his experience there was hardly anything regarding his ship or any other one for that matter that Cid couldn't provide an answer to. And it was that reason why Reeve came to him in the first place, searching for someone to head the experimental project.

"_You know I'm lucky to have a man like you on our side. I bet ShinRa is kicking himself in the pants right about now."_

Cid laughed when he heard that, especially when Reeve told him he couldn't think of any other man better suited for the job. Of course he couldn't argue that he was rather skilled and knowledgeable when it came down to aircrafts and mechanics, but he'd never call himself the best.

It was a nice thought at the moment, but he had told the director there was no need to ask. Cid accepted with little consideration, despite the demands the position required, packed up and headed for Edge within a week he received the phone call.

That was it.

And now he sat on the bed in his temporary accommodations, brushing up on his already honed expertise, into the early hours of the morning.

He set the book he was reading down beside him and removed his reading glasses to let his weary eyes rest for a moment. To his right, the digital clock displayed: 3:15 am, and counting. It was more than late enough for the pilot to convince himself he needed to stop for the night, and Cid slid down a bit further to find a more comfortable position.

_A nap won't hurt…_he thought, yawning loudly.

Bright blue eyes faded under tired lids; his eye lashes dampened with tears from the yawn. Cid began to drift into a state between consciousness and sleep, and he would've made it there without trouble had the vociferous set of knocks not ripped him from that journey.

Frightened slightly and curious as to who could be at his door, considering the late hour, Cid scrambled out of bed still fully dressed—minus his shoes—he didn't bother to check through the eye hole and opened the door. What he wasn't expecting, even more so than to have an unexpected visitor, was who the man actually was; Vincent, and not just so, but he was covered in a thin film of sweat, slightly disheveled and breathing heavily.

The gunman stumbled inside as Cid stepped out of the way to let him pass and he leaned against the dresser to find some balance. For a moment, Cid wasn't sure what to think about this. Vincent looked even worse than he did only a few hours before, but then again, he wasn't used to the sight.

Cid frowned. "Vince, what're you—?"

Before the pilot could finish, the dark-haired man struggled to give him one last look before collapsing to the floor. Cid rushed to his side, just barely catching him and pulled him upright again. He didn't hesitate to lead Vincent to the bed where the gunner crumpled again.

This was bad.

Something was terribly wrong.

"Wait here," the pilot said and rushed into the bathroom. Whether or not his words were heard, he came back with a damp cloth to pat down Vincent's glistening skin but not before removing that bulky cloak and dirty bandana.

It only took a few moments for Vincent to fade completely out, so the questions would have to wait.

For now, that was all Cid could do.


	3. 03

**03**

Vincent awoke with a start, bolting upright as his eyes darted across the room. He couldn't remember where he was or how he'd gotten there, but when Cid appeared out of the bathroom it became as clear as day. He remembered nearly every detail, from struggling to get there to collapsing right there in front of him…_how embarrassing…_

Cid approached the bedside while Vincent pushed himself further against the headboard. He wasn't shirtless this time, which was a relief, and he was in one piece, but the humiliation didn't seem to want to let up.

"How do you feel?" asked the blond.

Slightly better from last night; that much he knew, but there was more to the story than he was willing to let on. And now his secret was exposed; the two people he didn't want to know _knew_ and one of them was looking down right at him.

"What time is it?"

"…Almost 4:00 pm," Cid replied. "You've been asleep for a while."

That's right. It was still early in the morning when he got there.

An awkward silence blanketed the room. Vincent had no idea what to say or even if there was anything he could; he just wanted to run away and pretend like none of this ever happened. Of course, Cid wouldn't allow him to get away with that.

The pilot simply couldn't keep quiet for much longer.

"Vince, what the hell is going on?"

There it was—the one question he wanted to avoid at all costs and he sat there at a loss for words, stumbling over his thoughts.

"First I get a call to come help and find you all mangled, a-a-a-and then…you show up at my door on the verge of death. I don't get it. I've never seen you like this before, not even close and it seems to be getting worse. What do you expect me to think? Or do for that matter? How am I supposed to react to this?"

He never noticed how bright a blue Cid's eyes burned when he was mad—like that's what he should be thinking at a time like this—but there they were, staring at him, _piercing_ into his soul, searching for an answer. That's all he seemed to want, however, and he deserved at least that.

"I…don't know how to explain it."

"Try me, I've got all day."

He knew at that moment there was no way to get out of this one. Vincent sucked in a deep breath of air to ready himself and began.

"It's been a couple of weeks since it started." Cid remained silent, listening intently. "The symptoms weren't bad, so I didn't pay attention to them at first; however, as they progressed, my health began to deteriorate. The worst of them happened when you were called out by Reeve. I'm not entirely sure what took place as I was not conscious …"

"Did the doctor find anything?"

"…I have a theory, and he seemed to agree with the possibility."

The pilot didn't even need to say it; his eyes spoke for him, but Vincent hesitated to get the words out. How could he explain this? It didn't even make much sense to him let alone the doctor who'd made the diagnosis.

"It doesn't matter now," Vincent said, throwing the covers aside. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself off, heading straight for his cloak which hung on a hook behind the door. He was giving up.

"Wait a minute, 'It doesn't matter'?" Cid echoed and chased after him.

"I shouldn't have come here."

"What makes you say that?"

"This is not your problem. I shouldn't have gotten you involved."

"Oh, no. No, no, no, don't do this to me, Vincent. You can't just come here in your condition and then up and leave. It's not fair."

At the dresser, Vincent tried to refrain from exploding with anger but he simply couldn't. He slammed his fist down, not out of anger towards the pilot, and spun to face the other man.

"_Fair?_ You think that any of this is fair?"

"That's not what I meant…" With his cloak in arm, Vincent headed for the door while Cid trailed behind him. "Why won't you let me help you?"

_It's not his fault…_

The gunman paused in his tracks, hand wrapped firmly around the knob. "I'm sorry." It was hard to get out, hard to leave but he needed to say it. Finally, Vincent pulled the door opened and disappeared into the hall. Cid couldn't even bother to run after him. That's what he wanted…wasn't it?

- -

It was his first office, in a section of the WRO building where he worked; not necessarily impressive or elegant, but it was his. Located in the hangar for now (with a more permanent location coming soon), Cid sat at his desk while his hands combed through his hair. He was tired. After Vincent suddenly showed up at his door, he just couldn't sleep with the gunman like that, and now it was coming up to just over two days since he last slept.

There was work to do, though; papers lay scattered atop his desk in a mess like a storm had just passed through, but that was to be expected having only been on the job for a couple of weeks. Instead, he sat there quietly thinking to himself, wondering if Vincent was alright; the thought wouldn't leave his mind. Then a soft set of knocks sounded to his right and Reeve appeared.

"You're here awfully late."

"Yeah…" A quick glance to the clock on the wall read 11:30 PM.

"How are things; with Vincent?"

"I don't know," Cid replied, sighing heavily. He dropped his hands down on the desk and leaned back into the chair. "He took off yesterday afternoon, haven't heard anything since. You haven't seen him?"

"No. The last time we spoke was when you returned with him that day, at the doctor's office. I'm a little concerned now. He wouldn't pick up when I called."

That did it. Cid needn't hear anymore to know that he couldn't stay in that office one more second. The pilot shot up from the chair and excused himself from the room. He didn't need to explain to Reeve his sudden departure; the director knew.

Luckily his journey was a short one, as Vincent resided (temporarily, at that) in a small apartment just a few minutes from headquarters. A heavy rain had picked up as well, and his truck tires squealed from the water that coated the rubber. No one was out there, the city was dead, so it didn't matter—to him at least—if he parked in that no parking zone.

Cid ran to the building getting soaked from head to toe. Still, it did not faze him. He grabbed the hand railing and lunged forward up the stairs taking two at a time until he reached the door labeled "2-A". Balling his hand into a fist, the pilot knocked several times but there was never an answer, only further encouraging him to proceed inside.

He opened the door and stepped inside the apartment to be greeted by a waft of cold air, shivering as it billowed over his damp skin.

_That's odd;_ Cid thought.

Upon further inspection of the entry and living room, he found nothing at all, but the fact that the door was unlocked is what caught his attention most. It didn't make much sense at all in this city, despite the fact that Vincent was fully capable of protecting himself. No one left their door open for the world to waltz right into… Nevertheless, Cid shoved the thought to the back of his mind and headed for what he figured was the bedroom.

Inside it was just as dark, if not more so, than out in the open. Still, nothing; that is, until a line of light shimmered in the corner of his eye. It gleamed from the cracked bathroom doorway, and he could feel the steam pouring out of it as he approached. Cid pushed the door open with the tips of his fingers after he called out the gunman's name to no avail; a thick haze lingered inside making it difficult to see much of anything.

He called again, this time sure that he would find something.

"Vince?"

To his right, Vincent sat in the tub under a stream of boiling hot water, his skin red from the extreme heat that rained from overhead.

Immediately, Cid fell to his knees at the side of the tub to better hear what the gunman was attempting to say.

"…ol…d."

A frown pulled at his face; he couldn't understand.

"M'…_c-cold_…"


	4. 04

**04**

Vincent sat on the edge of the bed, out of the shower, fully clothed and with a blanket wrapped around him. Albeit he wasn't as cold as he was sitting under a stream of searing hot water, he shivered slightly under the fleece material. Even a cold sweat lined his brow, which concerned the pilot. That could only mean his symptoms were getting worse by the moment, and a cure was nowhere in sight.

Cid could hardly focus, however, on what was in front of him; their conversation that had been cut short before lingered in the back of his mind, begging for an answer. He was ready now; the pilot stopped pacing back and forth in the middle of the room and approached Vincent who seemed to be struggling to keep alert. Their eyes met and Cid took his chance.

"You've got to tell me what's happening, Vincent. You need to finish explaining this to me."

And he would, but not before taking in a deep breath.

"Chaos…"

"What about him?"

"…and the Protomateria…it's because of them."

"But they're gone, and I thought you were doing fine after what happened. We all thought that."

"I thought so too, but apparently that's not the case." Vincent paused briefly to gather his strength and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "My body continued to live because of them. They were essentially keeping me alive. And when one of them was gone, I couldn't control the other. Now that I have neither, it's hard to tell what will happen as a result."

"I guess that makes sense," Cid replied and moved to sit down next to him. "Is there any reason why the symptoms didn't show up sooner? It's been two months since…that happened. Why would you be getting sick now?"

The gunman shrugged; his guess was as good as anyone else's.

"So the doctor agreed with this theory?"

"He believes it to be a possibility; the most likely, in any case."

"Then what does it all mean?"

This would be the hard part, Vincent knew that for sure. His stomach dropped at the thought of attempting to explain it, but he was too weak to run and had little fight left in him.

"There are two possibilities: one, my body is simply adjusting. As the loss could be considered devastating, it's not ludicrous to agree I would be experiencing warning signs that something has changed within me."

"…And the other?"

_Here goes nothing…_

"The other would mean that, because of the loss of what was previously keeping me alive, my body is deteriorating."

"Deteriorating?"

"Dying, more or less."

"But that…" Cid paused mid-sentence at the revelation. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, he couldn't find the words to continue. Instead, the pilot shot up off of the bed and returned to pacing nervously. For quite some time, long enough to make Vincent feel severely uncomfortable, the sound of silence became louder as each second passed. It rang loudly, reverberating against the walls, screaming, taunting.

"No."

The word came so unexpectedly, backed with an undeniable sense of certainty. Vincent reeled back slightly when Cid stopped shaking his head and came towards him again. He'd never seen the pilot like this before, and it frightened him.

"It's got to be that your body is adjusting, right? Why wouldn't the symptoms happen sooner? Why now? The possibility doesn't make any sense."

"That's just what it is," Vincent explained, "A possibility. It's much too early to tell whether one is more plausible than the other."

"Is that why you won't let the doctors help you?"

The gunman cringed at the thought of submitting himself to that level; he didn't want to seem anymore pathetic than he already felt.

"There's little they can do at this point. Other than to run a countless number of tests, no result they would come up with will be definite."

"Then how are you going to treat this? Are you just going to let it go?"

_Yes,_ would've been the correct answer, and Vincent wished he could assure everyone otherwise, but it was the reality of his truth. That and the gunman's PHS began to ring loudly from the living room, capturing Cid's attention.

The pilot turned his gaze back to Vincent who sat on the bed. He saw a small, pale, shivering man, huddled inside of a blanket and then silently excused himself from the room to answer the call when he realized Vincent wouldn't.

"Yeah?"

"…Wait a minute, this isn't Vincent."

That voice—_Yuffie_.

"No, it's not. Whaddaya want, ya brat?"

"Cid?!"

"Yeah, that's right."

"But why are you answering Vincent's phone?"

"Because he's not able to do it himself at the moment. Now you called for a reason, so get on with it."

"I'm calling because I wanted to check on him. I heard about what happened; everyone's talking about it. Is he alright?"

Cid sighed heavily and moved to the entryway so Vincent couldn't hear through the bedroom door. He ran a hand over his tired eyes, rubbing them hard. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"It means I'm just as confused as you are. Look, he's not doin' so well and things are getting worse. And he just told me there's not a lot the doctor's can do for him, even though he's unwilling to let them try in the first place."

"He won't let them?"

"I guess not, though I can't really blame the guy. I mean he's had his fair share of bad experiences in sterilized rooms, so I 'spose it would bring back bad memories."

"Oh…"

"But if he won't let them keep track of his symptoms, I'm not really sure what'll happen if they keep getting worse."

On the other end, Yuffie hummed softly at the dilemma. She could tell that the pilot was concerned for Vincent's health; why wouldn't he be? They were friends after all. She, too, wouldn't allow for the gunman to simply shrug it off and racked her brain to think of a solution.

"Hey, wait a minute!" the young girl squealed. "Why don't you bring him here?"

"Here? Where is here?"

"Wutai! There's a woman he could see, we call her Obaachan; she's sort of like the village doctor. She's practiced the art of Wutainese medicine her whole life which is different from eastern influences. It's not invasive like they do in modern medicine, and the environment is completely different. Plus it's pretty nice up here. Maybe he'd have an easier time relaxing?"

"Bring him to Wutai…"

"Yeah, if he's not willing to let the doctors work on him over there, then the least he can do is allow for someone else to try another technique. It's always worked for me and I'm as fit as a fiddle. And trust me; she's worked some miracles before."

Cid had to admit it wasn't all that bad of an idea. Yuffie certainly had a point. It wouldn't be like the practices in the city. No, it would be completely different, _and_ it was certainly a chance to try something different; try something, _if anything_.

"Yeah," the pilot replied softly; his mind still wrapped around the idea. "Yeah, we'll think about it."

"Good, but let me know if you're coming so I can make arrangements beforehand."

It seemed like there was little more left to say, although something deep inside of him urged to stress the fact that he should be grateful for her help. Before Yuffie could leave, he spoke up.

"Uh, thank you…"

"Thanks? There's no need to thank me, old man. I'm doing this for Vincent, not you."

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that," Cid spat. It was back to normal between them. "Then get the place ready, 'cause we'll be there." He hung up the phone and set it back on the coffee table to head straight for the bedroom.

"Vincent. We're going to Wutai."


	5. 05

**05**

"_Wutai?"_

"_Yeah…where's your bag?"_

"_Under the bed…why are we going to Wutai?"_

"_That was Yuffie. I told her what happened 'cause she called to check on you and suggested we try Western medicine."_

"_Western medicine?"_

"_Sh'said there was a woman in the village that practices Wutainese medicine. It's different, and I think she's onto something."_

"_But, Cid…I—"_

"—_Don't shoot this one down just yet, okay? The least you can do is come with me and talk to her."_

"…"

The airship touched down around high noon just a few minutes outside of Wutai, and they were greeted by Yuffie, of course, along with a few of her handmaidens dressed in their traditional yet faintly modern attire. From there, the two followed the young girl down the main road into town where they finally arrived at a familiar pagoda.

It wasn't the main part of the structure, but a smaller, currently unused area they would be staying in for the time being; for the sole purpose of privacy, yet close enough that, if need be, help was right around the corner.

"So, that's it. We've made up two rooms for you guys, and everything you need should be in here. Oh! And I spoke with Obaachan, she said she'd see Vincent whenever, but you guys just got here so maybe you should settle first."

"He didn't do too well on the ship…"

"Gosh, kinda reminds me of _me_," the ninja sighed, genuinely worried after hearing something outrageous like that. Vincent, sick on the ship? No way. "Anyway, I can't stick around but if you need something, just ask one of the girls. I'll be back later to check on you guys, so make yourselves at home."

With that, Yuffie took her leave and Cid remained in the living area for a few moments. They were there and getting settled but the way his heart dropped into his stomach didn't make him feel any better… Mindlessly, the tips of his fingers brushed against the outline of a small box in his pocket—cigarettes, and they sounded awfully tempting.

Directly behind him was a sliding door that lead outside to the back; he stepped onto the deck where the wind gently hit his face. Between his lips hung the small white stick and the fire from his lighter made the tip glimmer a bright red. Cid hadn't realized it until the nicotine began to flow through him that he'd completely forgotten about smoking ever since that moment in the ship as he waited for the gunman.

The thought was cut short, however, when the door behind him slid open and Vincent appeared.

Almost as if on cue, he snubbed the cigarette out on the railing.

"Vince…"

"You didn't have to do that," the dark-haired man said, joining Cid at his side.

"It's kinda cold out; you should be inside."

A simple laugh is all he received, but it was confusing nonetheless.

"I've already sacrificed enough of my dignity; please don't ask me to do it again."

How pitiful. Cid _wanted_ to argue against his point, but when their eyes met he could not deny the pleading look in Vincent's eyes. After all, if their positions had been switched, Cid surely wouldn't want to be treated as though he were something fragile, something that would fall apart even at the slightest breeze.

"You're right," the pilot replied with a bit of a snicker and a shake of his head. "I shouldn't do that to you."

"No," Vincent countered. "I understand, but don't beat yourself up for caring."

_When the hell did _this_ happen? _the pilot wondered. _Is this really Vince? And what's with that look on his face?_

"…Hey, are you alright?"

For a moment, Vincent turned away; a frown tugged at his features. He paused for a moment, back facing the pilot now to lean against the railing and steady his balance, but the attempt proved futile.

"Vince?"

"M'fine," he insisted. As the gunman thought he could make it inside, his body grew heavier with an unseen weight that drove him down. And Cid came to him, lending his arms as balance, but he went down, falling hard onto his knees as the feeling quickly rushed to his head. It swam around inside, forcing his vision to blur and the world to spin wildly around him. At that moment, clarity was completely out of reach and the pilot could only watch as Vincent faded out.

- -

He sat in the corner of the room chewing on his thumbnail and had been for quite some time. His nerves were shot after what took place earlier; Vincent losing consciousness like that. Sure it'd happened before, but that didn't help to ease the shock factor—not one bit. And once he managed to get the gunman in bed, which, surprisingly, wasn't as difficult as he thought it would be given the fact that Vincent had lost weight, Cid wasted no time in hunting down the woman Yuffie referred to as Obaachan, who rushed to the house without hesitation.

She allowed him to stick around; perhaps for Vincent's well being, though Cid wondered if she was only trying to be nice knowing how worried he was. His presence didn't seem to disturb her concentration, in any case. The old woman did things he'd never seen before, and quite frankly, raised his suspicions, but he was much too preoccupied with the idea of getting a second opinion to start making judgments. All he could do was wait.

"Well," she said with a heavy sigh as she turned to face Cid—all ears, now. "I have not seen something like this for a long time."

"You mean you've had experience with this before?"

"Not to this extent, but similar enough that I can at least offer my opinion. Now, I'm not a medical doctor, nor do I have a degree. You know that our ways here are different than in the cities and big hospitals. We abide by tradition; the knowledge of our ancestors, but that does not mean there will be a cure. My practice in medicine is just like the sciences in your world, uncertain at times, so please do not expect a miracle."

"No, not at all."

"From what I've been told and what I see here, even I can't disagree with the general consensus. Vincent is definitely suffering from this loss."

Cid knew that, of course. Anyone could tell just by looking at him. The poor guy was doused in a cold sweat, shivering uncontrollably and that was only half of it.

"A demon such as the one he had inside of him, fused with the great power of the Protomateria surely had some effect on his physical capabilities. It made him stronger, yes? They allowed him to live. And in their absence, his body is not sure of what to do. You said he was shot, correct?"

"Yeah, that's why he had those things in him."

"But he certainly would not have made it without them. I don't suppose it's been too short a time for his body to adjust..."

"Then why all of these violent symptoms outta nowhere and why are they getting worse?"

"That," Obaachan began, "Is something I'm not sure I can explain. Had I known more about his condition back then, perhaps it would help to clarify the situation; although medical records may not be of any assistance to us now."

"I get the fact that his body is trying to regulate itself, but if the symptoms continue to get worse, wouldn't that mean, at some point, that he couldn't take it anymore?"

"That is a possibility."

"Then he really might die…?"

Those words coming from his mouth, Cid could hardly believe it. They disgusted and nauseated him to the point where he thought he'd throw up. There was no way that would happen, not to Vincent yet the answer had not changed.

"I'm sorry," the old woman said as she pushed herself up from the floor. Cid stood as well to escort her out and to continue their conversation. "I hate to say this, but I'm afraid I can't give you much of a different perspective. Vincent's spirit is weakening; his aura is rapidly losing strength and only time can tell what will happen in the end."

"…Is he…in pain right now?"

"No, he is resting quite peacefully, in fact. There is a chance that this change of environment could have some effect on his progression. And the fact that he has such a compassionate friend to care so much about him must certainly be reassuring." They were at the front door before he knew it when Obaachan turned to face him with a smile. "I'll check back regularly; the least I can do is alleviate the brunt of his symptoms, so just give it time."

Cid watched from the entryway as she made her way down the steps and onto the dirt road back to the main house. He knew he would be seeing her again, yet hopefully not anytime soon.


	6. 06

**06**

He knew it would be best not to wake the gunman once he arrived back at the house a few hours later. On an aimless walk to clear his mind, Cid thought about the day's events yet had little success in understanding or even accepting them. The walk did nothing at all for his restlessness, but as he headed straight for Vincent's room at the end of the hall, he was relieved to find the gunman where he left him—sound asleep.

Perhaps, he thought, some sleep would do him well; Cid clonked out in the room next door just minutes after stepping inside the house, but his slumber did not last for long. He awoke in a sweat after experiencing a rather vivid and terrifying nightmare. It involved Vincent, but he couldn't quite reach the gunner who walked slowly away from him in what looked and felt like some level of Hell. Cid ran and ran until every muscle in his body burned and his heart hammered loudly in his ears; the blazing fire that surrounded them was too much to bear.

Pushing himself out of bed, Cid realized that his heart was still beating at a million miles an hour. He knew needed to calm himself and headed for the bathroom to get a glass of water when on the way he noticed that the light inside the bathroom was on, and the door sat open wide enough that it called for some concern. In his experience, judging by the last time at least, it usually resulted in something bad.

Without bothering to knock, the pilot waltz in to find Vincent on the floor huddled over the toilet. He barely had any strength, but the gunner managed to shoot a glance over his shoulder at Cid who joined him on his knees. Cid took the brunt of the man's weight as Vincent moved to collapse on him. In his arms, Vincent settled with his face pressed against the pilot's chest just trying to steady his ragged breathing. It was heavy at first and then fell to a sluggish pace once he had a moment to relax.

He could only guess whatever it was that had brought the gunman there in the first place was over and escorted Vincent back to his room where he collapsed into bed with a _thud_. Cid pulled the blankets up and over him, and then turned to head for the door when a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. Peering out from under the blanket, in a hoarse tone, Vincent asked the blond to stay; a plea to which Cid hesitated briefly before obliging. On top of the blanket and what room was left on the mattress, he nestled next to the gunman.

It was almost too quiet at first as Cid sat there in the dark room. The position he was in, he noticed, had become rather uncomfortable on the small bed, and the only way to fix that was to move his arm. Right away Vincent had already began to drift to sleep, so now was the best time to attempt anything and the pilot gently repositioned himself so that the other man was cradled against his side. When Vincent shifted and groaned softly, Cid thought he had aroused the gunman, but Vincent settled again as quickly as he'd fallen asleep.

For now, Cid would stay there until he was sure the gunman was asleep, but he would have to move sooner or later before he fell off the bed…

- -

The sound of a door slamming woke the pilot up. He jerked out of a sound sleep, glanced around the room that wasn't his and finally realized after a few moments that he hadn't moved to his own bed like he'd planned on. Vincent still slept peacefully in his arms; however, even though a light sweat covered his forehead, it was still nothing compared to how bad his symptoms had been before.

Another sound, the sound of voices—familiar ones—moved in closer, beckoning him.

Cid deftly slipped his arm out from under the gunman, grateful that Vincent remained asleep as he moved outside into the hall. He closed the door softly behind him and stepped into the living room to find Yuffie trailing behind Tifa who paced wildly around the room.

"What the hell is this?" the pilot asked with a frown.

"Cid! I didn't mean to tell her; it just slipped!" Yuffie began.

"Where is he? Is Vincent alright?"

Before the pilot even dared to have this conversation, he moved them as far away from the bedroom as possible into the kitchen, shushing the two women who seemed to be distraught for their own reasons.

"He's in bed, _asleep_. Now will someone mind tellin' me what's goin' on here?"

"Alright!" the ninja stepped in. "I had to make a trip back to Edge, like I told you, and Tifa and I got to talking and I happened to mention Vincent's situation, so she freaked out and insisted on coming to see him!"

"I was just _worried_," the fighter explained. "Can't I be concerned for the health of a friend?"

"Y'know I didn't want you to announce this to the whole world!" Cid barked at the young girl. "Don't you have _any_ self control?!"

"Look, don't worry about it!" Tifa interjected. "I won't be in your hair. It'll be like I'm not even here."

The pilot heaved a heavy sigh, throwing his arms in the air to feign defeat and grumbled his way out the front door, snatching the pack of cigarettes off the table before making a silent exit. He couldn't handle any of this at the moment knowing full well one of them would make him completely lose his cool, which would result in the last thing he wanted; to have them wake up Vincent.

Cid stomped down the steps and onto the dirt, kicking the ground with his boot.

_How could she?! Runnin' her mouth like that…_

He nearly jumped when someone approached him from behind. Cloud appeared from over his shoulder from out of nowhere it seemed.

"Jeez, you're here, too?"

"Sorry," the spiky-haired blond said. "For what it's worth, I was forced to come."

"Oh yeah?" the pilot scoffed and pulled a cigarette out from the box. "She musta had a gun to your head."

"Not necessarily, but you know how Tifa can get when she's worried."

Cid sat down heavily on the stairs and Cloud joined him as he lit the end of the cigarette with his trusty lighter. Smoke billowed into the air in front of them and caught the wind, dissipating momentarily. It was clear how stressed out the pilot was by their unexpected and somewhat unwelcome presence, but Cloud couldn't blame him.

"I understand why you didn't want to make a big deal out of this; if it were me, I'd feel the same way. But it kinda is a big deal if you think about it. Vincent's really sick from what I hear."

"Yeah…that's just why I wanted to keep it a secret," the pilot sneered, not necessarily at Cloud but a reaction towards the general distaste he felt for Yuffie at the moment. "It only makes it _that_ much more _real_," he confessed.

By then he was half way through the small white stick and still going, perhaps in need of another though the contents of the box were dwindling fast. It was no use. He couldn't sit still another moment and shot up off of the stairs to pace back and forth.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm only staying the night…"

"Then why'd you bother comin' in the first place?"

"Well, I suppose I must confess I was worried about Vincent myself. That and like I said, Tifa was adamant about me tagging along. Luckily, I convinced her not to call Barret and everyone else she could think of. Right now the kids are with Elmyra, so that's why we could up and leave so suddenly. But the bar can't stay closed for that long; someone has to run it, which is why I'm heading back in the morning to do just that."

Cloud had never been much of a consoler in times of extreme stress, but Cid couldn't deny the fact that he was slowly beginning to cool off. Sure, he was livid after what he woke up to. Then again, there was little he could do other than bitch and bitching was not exactly something he felt up to.

_Figure I should say somethin'_, Cid thought, but before he could even begin to respond the door flew open and both girls emerged from inside the house.

"Let me get a room set up for you at least," Yuffie said.

She must have managed to convince Tifa to cool her jets for the time being seeing how she couldn't do much visiting since Vincent was asleep. So Cloud followed the two as they headed back towards the main house, turning mid walk to shrug and shake his head. It would be just them again in the house, alone, but not for much longer. Without a doubt in his mind, Cid knew things were about to change.


	7. 07

**07**

He found himself back in the house, unmoving in the entryway. So many thoughts ran through his mind that it was hard to concentrate on just one; now even more so as the silence had returned. But the moment the pilot mustered enough persuasion to shift his attention elsewhere for the time being, the sound of feet softly shuffling down the hall caught his attention to the shadowy figure lurking out of the depths of his room.

"You're up."

Vincent rubbed his eyes while he spoke. "It _was_ rather loud," he said, and yawned.

"Ah…they woke you."

He quickly corrected the man. "You woke me." Cid froze.

He felt kind of embarrassed to know that the gunner was awake before he could disappear after falling asleep with him in his arms. So he brought his hand to his neck and began to rub as though the gesture would somehow draw attention away from the fact that he was turning red.

"Yeah…sorry… Didja get any sleep last night?"

"If I did, it certainly doesn't feel like it," Vincent replied as he moved towards the kitchen.

"Maybe you should rest some more."

"I'd rather not."

"Listen, I know it's tough havin' to—"

"No, you don't know," the dark-haired man snapped. Whether it was on purpose or simply as a reaction to the tremendous amount of stress on him at the moment, Cid wasn't certain. "You don't know what I'm going through. I can hardly climb out of bed without feeling like I'll just fall right back down. Can't eat, can't sleep; might as well finish me off now."

"Don't say that…"

"It would be much easier for the both of us." Vincent paused suddenly and swayed a bit only to bring his hand to his head. "Suddenly, I feel nauseated."

Cid stepped towards him, unconsciously offering his hand as a concerning gesture, "Look, Vince," but it was simply rejected when Vincent jerked away.

"Don't touch me."

"You should at least sit down." The gunman's warning grew more sincere as Vincent resorted to literally attempting to steer clear of Cid as he tried to take hold of him. Vincent twisted and turned, did everything he could to get away but his lack of strength in that he had not eaten a real meal for some time, had not had himself a good rest nor retained any physical strength from the sickness that ravaged his body, would not let him off so easily. He had no other choice but to give up, feeling quite shameful that even the smallest of things could render him powerless. Cid grabbed him tightly by the arms. It hurt a bit, though not as much as the humiliation that boiled in the pit of his stomach. "Listen, stop it. Stop, okay?"

He could only respond in a mumble. "I don't want to do this."

"Eh?"

"No more. It's only getting worse."

"That doesn't mean things won't get better."

"I'm tired." That was no lie. He looked tired, felt tired, and was just so. "I'm done."

Cid frowned. "Vince…"

"…Promise me one thing."

"—?"

"When the time comes, would you…take care of things…for me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You and I both know it would take a miracle."

"Don't be silly."

"Please. I want you to be the one…"

The pilot shook him to emphasize his rejection of such a ludicrous idea. "No!" That was the last straw, Cid could no longer listen to the words that Vincent said and pulled him into a tight embrace. Beside his ear, the pilot spoke softly, "Do you hear me? I will not take that responsibility. Things are gonna change, but they'll only get worse before they get better. And you have to promise me you'll hang in there because I won't let you give up. Got it?"

It took him a moment, a bit longer than Cid felt comfortable with when Vincent finally began to loosen up. At first, his body was stiff, frozen in his arms, but for some reason the gunner gave up. For whatever reason, be it lack of strength or lack of willpower; either way, Cid had to admit he was relieved to know that Vincent had decided to confide in him, and it was intentional. Or perhaps it was merely the result of a symptom; a fever would sooner have him hallucinating. It didn't matter, in any case.

At a whisper, almost inaudible yet dripping with an undeniable sense of fear, Vincent replied.

"_M'scared."_

That is when Cid's heart dropped into his stomach. Just hearing something like that, coming from Vincent no less, made him sick beyond belief. He'd never imagined a circumstance possible of forcing out such a confession, but he worried more about whether Vincent would feel the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest…being so close.

He said nothing in reply, not because he didn't know what to, but everything he could think of at the moment seemed lackluster and pointless.

Silence would be best.

Silence it was.


	8. 08

**08  
**

She would chance it, but Tifa couldn't help the butterflies in her stomach, fluttering around as she snuck inside the small home. After what happened earlier, she wasn't sure if coming to Wutai had been the best idea. Then again, there was no denying the fact that she was worried about Vincent.

At first glance, there was no one in sight; Cid, especially, who she wanted to avoid for now. Not because she was afraid of what would happen, but rather, thinking it would be best to give him some time to cool off.

Deeper inside, through the living area, her eyes scanned the room; hallway, kitchen, until they locked onto a figure standing outside. She could see it through the sliding glass that led to the veranda and made her way out there to join him.

Vincent shot a glance over his shoulder once he heard the door open, perhaps expecting it to be someone else, but waited for her to say something before he spoke first.

"You must be feeling better," she said with a smile and closed the door behind her. Vincent wasn't entirely sure what she meant by the comment, as that was certainly not the truth and waited for the rest of her explanation. "Being out of bed like this?"

He didn't bother to respond and simply turned back the way he was facing; a light breeze blew in their direction, wafting pieces of his hair across his neck and face.

"Sorry, you've probably heard that a million times already."

"Just about…"

Judging by his brief responses thus far, Tifa wasn't sure if he was up for much talking, but she wasn't about ready to give up as it seemed he wasn't exactly irritated with her. It would be worth the try, anyway.

"Cid was so mad earlier when he found out I was here."

"So I heard…" _Literally._

"I hope you're not mad, too."

"Not particularly."

"Well I'm glad, because I was just worried, is all. I didn't mean for it to be a huge deal."

Still, there was little to no response, verbally at least. He would glance at her every now and then; she saw this out of the corner of her eyes, but kept her focus straight ahead over the vast panorama in front of them.

"Cid seems to be really concerned, you know. I understand why he would get so upset. He's really concerned for you, going out of his way to make sure you'll be alright."

There was a bit of hesitance once Vincent parted his lips slightly to answer. Tifa could sense the uncertainty hanging heavy in the atmosphere around them. She even questioned whether it was the best direction to steer their conversation, but realized it was a little too late to take it back.

"I suppose he would do that for anyone…"

On the other hand, there was a curiosity within her that seemed to come from nowhere. Why had he paused like that? There's a nervousness here...

"No…now that I think about it, he probably wouldn't. I mean, sure Cid would be worried but I doubt he'd bend over backwards for anyone else. You two have always seemed to be close like that."

Now she knew he was definitely trying to avoid eye contact, and even began to direct his attention to the small things; fiddling with the hem of his sleeve rolled up or picking at the small hairs on his arm. It would probably be best, perhaps, to steer clear of saying anything more. She didn't want him to feel anymore uncomfortable than he already was.

"You've gotten so thin!" Tifa exclaimed, and gently rubbed at his wrist to emphasize her point. She headed back for the house on a beeline to the kitchen. "When's the last time you ate? Let me make you something."


	9. 09

**09**

(Author's Note: Decided to work with a different POV here, it's Cid's. Sorry if it's a distraction. Also, some obvious yaoi situations, so please do not read if you detest the stuff. For those who love it, enjoy!)

- - -

_Cid, honey…the dead never come back._

I remember those words, as clear as day. I was twelve then, like any normal kid. That was, until my father passed away. But the one thing that still stands out the most to me, even as we stood there at his grave site watching the men shovel dirt onto his coffin, was the expression on my mother's face.

She barely cried that day; only a few tears ran down her face, and when we got home after I cried enough for the both of us, she called me into the living room.

Never before had I heard such a happy woman say something so miserable. Gone was her husband of 15 years and in the blink of an eye no less. Yet there was an eerie sense about her words; something I understood so well even though I was just a kid.

Except this time, I'd seen it coming—in Vincent.

It made me sick to my stomach; had me on the verge of vomiting (when he wasn't looking, of course). I never wanted him to see me like that, always wanted to appear strong and hopeful, at least for him if not myself. And here I was with him Wutai having little to no idea how things would turn out. I'd left a new job, my home, everything…all for him.

So much crap ran through my mind out there on that hillside. I'd found it after taking a brief walk to attempt to clear my head. It helped a bit, but not as much as I'd hoped. Vincent wasn't getting any better; not emotionally, in any case, so I could do nothing but worry about him. Not even cigarettes helped to calm my nerves, and they had been quite a help during some nerve wracking times.

I let out a heavy sigh, flicked the butt of my cigarette onto the ground and ran a hand over my face.

It was time to head back.

Head back to what, though?

What other symptom would I walk in to find this time?

Up and off the ground I began my journey back to the small home where he waited.

Maybe this was all some sort of bad dream? It was a nice thought compared to just how real it felt; how real I knew it was.

Without noticing, I'd arrived at around sunset. The horizon burned a bright orange, but not for long. I opened the door and stepped in to find Vincent curled up in the corner of the couch. He'd fallen asleep out there with an afghan draped over him. The gunner must've been wiped out seeing as how he didn't move an inch at my arrival. Nor did he flinch when I stood over him to brush a piece of hair out of his face.

_Should really be in bed_…I thought to myself, but wouldn't dare to move him since he looked so peaceful for once.

Or so it seemed. Vincent shifted and groaned slightly only to peel his eyes open a few moments later.

"Mmhh…Cid…?"

"Did I miss anything?" I asked, and made my way into the kitchen.

He got up to follow me with a reply, "Tifa stopped by."

"Oh yeah? What'd she have to say?"

"She wanted to check on me, made some food as well though I wasn't able to keep much of it down…"

"But you did eat something…?"

Vincent nodded. _What the hell am I doing? Why am I so nervous?_

"I know you probably don't want to go to bed, but you should at least sit back down."

To my amazement, the gunman didn't put up a fight this time and returned to the couch. I waited a moment to join him and found he'd curled back up with the blanket. Without saying anything, I brushed aside his bangs and felt his forehead with my hand. His fever hadn't subsided but it wasn't any worse either, which had come as some of a relief. Although his face was a bit flushed, I figured it was just from the rise in body temperature.

When I looked down at him, I realized he was staring back up at me. It took me by surprise at first and my heart jumped into my throat; a painful gulp forced it back down.

In my right hand was a damp wash cloth, which I immediately recalled having gone into the kitchen for. I knelt down in front of him to begin wiping some of the sweat off of his face, and he just sat there silently, watching me. His bright red eyes pierced straight through me; or that's what it felt like, at least, and that's when he grabbed my hand.

I didn't say or do anything, just froze as my heart began to beat faster. I had no idea why I was getting so flustered, but it was clearly because of him.

Vincent never let go of my hand; he pulled me towards him and I followed. I was mesmerized by his gaze, couldn't tear myself away from it even though deep down inside I knew there was something wrong. The moment I got close enough that I could feel his breath on me; I paused and dropped my head but couldn't find it in me to say anything. Then he did something that shocked me beyond my ability to think rationally.

I felt his skin gently touch mine and a fire blazed through my body. My breath trembled; there was no way to hide my reaction, though he seemed to be…enjoying it, maybe? I stopped him the moment I could feel his lips again the skin of my neck by grabbing his wrist.

"_Wait_… What are you doing?"

He didn't respond and I had no idea what to do, so he did it for me.

Before carrying on, Vincent waited to see what I would do knowing he had no intentions of stopping. He slipped one hand around the back of my neck to pull me down. We didn't kiss right away, but I could feel his lips brush against mine, teasingly almost.

_He's gotta be delirious_, I told myself. _It's the fever…_

On the other hand, I asked myself why I would even let this carry on. Not only that, but even if he wasn't sick, I wondered if we would find ourselves in the same situation…

…Before I knew it, his lips were pressed against mine and I could feel the tip of his tongue slide against them. I couldn't help myself, wanting so badly to return the enthusiasm that Vincent came with. I found, once my brain permitted my thought process to move forward, that my hands had a mind of their own; grazing softly over his loose clothing. Apparently that was not enough, for he took to guiding my hand further down his body…over the contour of his collarbone, down his chest, stomach, waist…and that's when I lost it.

I pushed him backwards but Vincent made the maneuver easier by falling to the side so that I could climb over him.

"We can't…"

He replied by brushing the back of his hand down my abdomen, which shuddered at the touch. And then I felt the tips of his fingers move across my belt and jeans, so I shot him a glance only to find myself stare down at the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Vincent wanted something, though I wasn't sure where this enthusiasm had come from, especially after all he had been through in the passed few weeks. On the other hand, there _had_ been some moments between us that seemed to explain why we'd ended up on the couch together…

Both hands were on my belt now and working to pull it loose. He tugged it out of the loops and tossed it onto the floor, undid the button _and_ zipper with a curious dexterity before I grabbed his hand to stop him.

"You're sick; you shouldn't be doing this."

"I don't care," he purred and pulled out of my grip to finish what he started.

Vincent began to tug even harder now; he seemed awfully adamant about doing this, though I had little idea as to why…

My body jerked when I felt the sudden caress of his hand over the swollen bulge through the fabric of my boxers. For some my mind would not allow for this to continue, and I stopped him again for the last time; however, not entirely. He seemed to get the idea through the expression in my eyes. Instead of allowing it to go any further, I turned the tables on him.

Everything happened so fast that I could hardly keep track of what I was doing; the way he squirmed under me; every soft whimper that escaped his throat, just the little things drove me insane. It was the main reason why I threw my concerns to the wind, even though I knew what we were doing was wrong.

_We shouldn't be doing this…_

_We can't…_

_I need to stop…_

_Why can't I stop?_

He grabbed tightly onto my shirt to ride out his powerful release. And then Vincent let out a heavy sigh, pulling me closer to press my weight against his body. I waited silently until he found his breath again, but the gunner could hardly hold onto consciousness soon after. I suppose what we had done took most of what little strength he had left in him, seeing as how Vincent quickly faded in my arms. I watched as he mumbled something inaudible and then fell right to sleep.

The moment I knew he was out, I felt those concerns creep in from the back of my mind. It hurt physically in my chest, weighting down like a thick lump.

Then I asked myself…what now?


	10. 10

**10**

Slowly, Cid peeled his eyes open as light from the sun poured into the living room window. It was morning again, and terribly bright which forced him to squint until his vision adjusted. He shifted slightly, feeling a heavy weight in his arms. Vincent slept like a log there on the couch pressed against his body, peaceful, it seemed, though there was one thing that caught the pilot's attention. It was low at first and Cid had to lean in to double take, but Vincent's breathing had become shallow enough that it was quiet obvious something was wrong.

His heart skipped a beat, even as he went in to inspect further. Sure enough, despite his rapid movement, Vincent never once exhibited any acknowledgements that would have otherwise awakened a conscious individual—no, this sleep was _much_ too deep.

"Vince?"

Cid tried calling out at first, hoping maybe his voice would call the gunman out from his state, yet there was still no reaction. Then he brought his hand to cup Vincent's cheek and even shook him when his first attempts proved to be futile.

Nothing helped.

_But he's still breathing…_Cid thought as he pushed himself up into a better position. _He's still breathing. He's still breathing…_

Those words replayed in his mind as every second passed. Though the fact was true, Cid couldn't deny that the longer he waited for Vincent to simply snap out of it, the less time he was giving them to do something about it in the long run; so he didn't wait a second longer at the thought. In a flash, the pilot was up and out of the small house, running to the point where every muscle burned in his body. When he reached the main home, he sprinted inside and ran around like a chicken with his head cut off until he found someone; a young housemaid who nearly jumped out of her skin at his abrupt arrival.

She could barely understand what Cid was trying to say, and lucky for the both of them, Tifa appeared with Yuffie having heard the commotion. He quickly led them both back to the home where Vincent remained unconscious on the couch, struggling to do something as simple as breathe, but Cid could barely keep his wits about him. Instead of helping them, he stood off to the side in a panic. They were forced to call upon the assistance of a few other men from the palace who carried the gunman to a location easiest for both his recovery and the woman that would care for him. Obaachan met them there in a heartbeat, though it felt like forever to Cid.

After consoling the blond, as well as advising him to stay outside until she was done, the old woman disappeared, leaving him to his lonesome. That nearly drove him insane. Cid could hardly think straight much less convince himself to calm down, and so he paced back and forth in the hall outside the door. Nothing, not a word he said would provide the peace of mind he so desperately wished for. If only he had thought rationally last night, maybe they wouldn't have found themselves in that situation. No…Vincent wasn't even aware of his state, most likely; a good thing in some ways, now that he thought about it; majorly bad in others.

However, that bit of knowledge lent no solace to the pilot.

Was this it?

The end of the road?

Would he lose his best friend here and now without even getting the chance to say goodbye?

It was the possibility that drove him to the brink of madness; made him sick enough physically that, at times, he needed to sit down, breathe and force himself to control those bad thoughts.

_Just deal with it; he probably won't…_

Before Cid could even finish the thought, he choked on the tears that unexpectedly poured from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks and fell to the ground below. There was no stopping this. When that door opened, he would be ready to hear those words; he would expect them, and he would crumble.


	11. 11

**11**

The light that shined around him was too bright for his eyes at first glance. Vincent had to allow a moment for them to adjust before getting a good look at his surroundings, and when he did he found himself stunned as those bright red eyes scanned the pure white room. It was a big change from where he recalled falling asleep at, although Cid was no longer in sight. But the gunman couldn't remember being moved anywhere, nor could he imagine what this place might be considering the surreal atmosphere it radiated. There was no one else in the room other than him; no furniture save for a twin sized hospital-like bed dressed with pure white sheets to match the color palette. It came suddenly, however, the presence of a familiar spirit standing at the foot of the bed.

Chaos. His reaction was brash and uncouth; a frown accompanied the low growl that emitted from his throat.

"You…!"

_Calm down._

"What are you doing here?" Vincent demanded to know. "What is this place?"

_Nowhere._

The answer seemed ridiculous enough. Vincent's first reaction was to sneer, and bare his teeth.

"How can that be?"

_It just is._

"…Then I'm—?"

_You're not dead. Your body is struggling to hold on while your mind explores what waits beyond._

"Why are you here?"

_Beats me._

"You don't know?"

_Neither do you._

He frowned. "…I don't understand."

_I am a part of you still, it seems._

"A part of me?" Vincent echoed.

_I am the reason for your state._

"But you just told me you don't know why either of us is here."

_I know what put you here: You cannot survive without me._

The gunman gave no answer. He was at a complete loss for words, and at the same time, budding with a million questions at once.

"Tell me where I am."

_You are between a state of consciousness and where the dead surrender their soul_.

"…?"

_Limbo, Purgatory, Hades; call it what you will._

"And you know nothing else…"

_As powerful as I am, as I was, I am not all knowing._

"How convenient," Vincent scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Then why are you, of all people, here?"

_Had I any choice I would still be a part of you. I would have devoured your soul and Vincent Valentine would be no more._

The menacing silence grew louder, ringing in his ears.

_You see nothing, you know nothing; you are selfish and pathetic. We were powerful together. We could have achieved greatness._

"Then I supposed this _is_ a good thing…"

_I do not wish to be here as much as you; however, it was not my place to make such a decision._

"You seem awfully content with the fact."

Just as quick and unexpectedly as he had ended up there, Vincent had little time to react as the demon lunged forward with his arms extended, hands open wide to wrap around his neck. He winced at first, the grasp was tight and unyielding. As a natural reaction, Vincent struggled desperately, even though he was pinned against the mattress, to find even the slightest bit of leverage, but his attempts were useless and only seemed to worsen his predicament.

_Do not forget that I am much more powerful than you. I will be the one to take your life._

Once he found a moment to suck in as much air as possible, Vincent attempted a response but could barely hiss out the words.

_Do not look at me with those eyes. _Chaos squeezed tighter and his gaze filled with an alarming excitement. _Vincent Valentine; always so sure of himself. There is nothing more I would love to do than to kill you right here and now. Your life is hanging by a thread and yet you are still so completely oblivious._ _And lucky me, I get to enjoy every bit of it._

There was no way he could hold on much longer at the rate things were going. It felt as though the demon was merely holding back for his own pleasure, to watch him suffer under that powerful grip. Vincent even grabbed at his wrists in hopes of finding some leverage, yet to no avail. He could feel the way his throat slowly crushed under the pressure, and at that moment it became apparent that Chaos had no intention of letting go.

Faster than he could realize, it became harder to breathe. The gunner, after learning that struggling would do no good, thought it wise to retain as much air and strength as possible by surrendering physically, though the fight inside him began to dwindle just as quickly as the air that escaped his lungs. His thoughts immediately focused on the freshest memory--a surprisingly pleasant one--the warmth that enveloped him as he fell asleep on the couch in Cid's arms back in Wutai.

Had he been in any other situation, Vincent might've felt embarrassed by his actions; however, that was the least of his worries. He wondered what the pilot was doing right then and there, where he was and just how distraught he'd likely be. At times, Cid made it painfully obvious that he was not the type of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve, but there was no denying--by his recent actions--that he cared deeply for the gunman. Tifa was right. Albeit her methods were a little imposing and meddlesome, she just had to be right.

_God damnit, why?_

No longer could Vincent make out the faint serrations in the ceiling. It began slowly at first, but the black and white dots increased by the hundreds as each second drudgingly passed on. As though a switch had been flipped, almost immediately, they engulfed his vision. Even before he could realize the fact that he was fading fast, Vincent began to slip back into an unconscious state. It felt like a bad dream, one that he no longer had control over with the power to simply wake up. His power was long gone and nowhere to be found.

But where, Vincent thought to himself just before his last breath, would he end up next?

- -

As the door clicked open, Cid jerked out of a light sleep only to find Tifa stepping out quietly. He stood from the chair in the hall where he waited, as he was no permitted to accompany the gunman, by the old woman's orders, and followed the brunette down the hall away from the room.

"Well?"

It felt like forever, but only an hour had passed since Vincent was brought to the main house, and now Cid wanted some answers.

Tifa paused at first, searching her mind for the right words--though the look on her face gave Cid somewhat of an idea as to how the situation was turning out. Their eyes met and Tifa could only do so much; she fought back the sting of tears that wanted to spill over.

"He's still alive--"

"--But?"

"But…we're not sure for how long." Tifa waited a moment to see how the pilot would react before continuing. All he could do was stare. "Obaachan said she's amazed that Vincent is still holding on. I mean I know he's always been a fighter, but he was so sick and has been through so much… I don't know what to tell you, Cid. Whatever happened to him last night or this morning…it seems like he won't last much longer."

She had missed it, but Tifa knew that her words had shattered his heart; it was apparent by his vacant expression. He wasn't even looking at her anymore, but rather _through_ her at nothing at all.

"Cid…"

He took a few steps back and fell against the wall. Cid could no longer support his own weight and slid to the ground. Now, the tears that welled in her eyes began to fall, flowing down her cheeks. She bit her lip as if that would help to contain the sudden flood of emotion, but the aching in her heart only grew as she stared at the pilot, miserable and broken after hearing the news.

Tifa came down to her knees in front of him; words could no longer serve there purpose there. Instinctively, she took him into her arms, though he couldn't seem to return the gesture. It surprised her to feel how stiff he was, shivering. But somehow, it all made a sort of odd sense to her. There was nothing in him to cry out, no tears to spill or words to speak; no rage to express nor sadness display. This was pure and utter shock.


	12. 12

**12**

She left him on his own after quite some time of trying to convince Cid he had to take it easy for the rest of the day. When the pilot refused to see Vincent like she'd suggested, after the initial shock passed, Tifa had to think of something; the smaller house where they previously resided is where she needed to go to collect what little things Vincent brought along with him on their journey to Wutai, but she didn't want to leave without knowing Cid was taken care of. Amazingly enough, she managed to get him into the main house for a while; whether or not the pilot would actually relax was a heavy doubt she would shoulder for the next few hours.

At the house now, in the room where Vincent slept, Tifa found his clothes and weapon, which would stay put for now. With his clothes in hand, Tifa made her way towards the living room to make sure no lights had been left on, but before she could reach the front door a faint vibration caught her attention.

It came from the PHS lying atop the coffee table, though she wasn't entirely sure whose it was--Cid's, probably, as she recalled having seen Vincent's phone before. Tifa picked it up anyway and saw the name on the screen: Reeve.

_Oh God_… This would be bad.

Tapping the 'send' button with her thumb, Tifa gulped before speaking and then greeted him. Reeve was surprised at first to hear her voice instead of the pilot's, and with good reason.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. "Where is Cid?"

"He's uh…unable to come to the phone right now."

"Tifa, what is _wrong_?"

She didn't want to have to be the one to tell him, but everything was entirely out of her control at this point.

"I think you need to come to Wutai…"

- -

As fast as he could, Reeve took the young woman's advice and hopped on the next flight headed to the Western Continent. Their brief conversation ended even quicker, for Reeve needed no explanation to know that something was definitely wrong and that Vincent had everything to do with it. For days, Reeve had gone without contact with them, knowing nothing of the man's situation or how grave a turn it had taken in such a short period of time. Despite the fact that he was a busy man, Reeve blamed himself for not keeping in touch, but he would find out soon enough.

It took nearly the rest of the day to fly into the small town, but Reeve wasted no time hunting for Tifa to get the details. By then, she'd had enough time to compose herself enough to explain the situation once more. After putting in a call to the bar back home, her tears eventually ran dry for the time being.

At 10:03 pm, Reeve declared he could wait no longer and opted to take his chances talking to Cid. He entered the room with caution, knowing full well how the pilot had responded as described by Tifa, but never expected to find him with that look on his face or hovering so closely to the gunman's bedside. Reeve pulled his glance away and shut the door quietly, clearing his throat before stepping in any further. Cid just sat in there in his chair, having even gone so far as to ignore his unexpected guest. The impending conversation would take guts and perseverance, but Reeve couldn't help feeling like it had already taken a turn for the worse.

"I came as soon as I could…"

There was no answer.

"I'm so sorry, Cid."

"What for?" he snapped; his tone vicious and hasty.

"All of this," Reeve sighed. What else could he say? "Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"Oh, forgive me. I was a little busy watching Vincent die right before my eyes…"

_It's okay, I understand. You have every right to be mad._

"Tifa told me everything. She says there isn't much time left… Why don't you bring him back to Edge?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he entrusted responsibility to me."

"Maybe the doctors there could--"

"They can't do _shit_ for him. I doubt he'd want to go back there anyway."

"Then let _me_ help you."

"Help?" the pilot snarled, standing from his chair now. The look in his eyes frightened Reeve. Never before had he seen the man so overwhelmed with raw emotion--not like this. "What help could you lend me?"

_A proper ceremony, at least…? No, I can't do that to him, I can't say that, not now..._ "I came here to support you, Cid. You're not the only one losing a good friend."

Cid frowned and jerked his head to the side, refusing those words.

"Losing. Losing… He's not gone yet."

"Are you going to keep on until the very end?"

"Of course I am! I didn't put my life on hold just to come here and anticipate his death! _Look_ at him, he's still breathing!"

"I can see that…"

"No, you can't! Why would you fucking come here? Why would you tell me these things?!"

"Cid, calm down," the dark-haired man said softly, stepping forward with one hand extended, but the pilot wanted none of it.

"Get away from me. Get the hell out of here!" Reeve lingered at the command, unsure of what to do. A tragedy was unfolding right before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it. "_GO!_"

Backed against the door, the dark-haired man took his leave. When the door finally shut, Cid released the breath he had been holding in for so long and then he felt the sting of tears well in his eyes. They rushed in without warning, even as he forcibly choked them back. A hand flew over his mouth to cover the sound, but he could barely muffle his pathetic sobs.


	13. 13

**13**

"I can't believe this is happening," she groaned, cupping her hands in her face. They'd moved away from the room in order to talk in privacy, about what Tifa heard as she stood out there in the hall having come to check on them. It was merely bad timing, a bad situation that no one could avoid, but unlike their previous close calls, this one had already come down to the wire with no hope in sight. "I'm so sorry about this, Reeve…"

"No," he replied softly, bringing a hand to place on her shoulder. "None of this is your fault, Tifa. Cid is going through a difficult time just like the rest of us. Unfortunately, it seemed that he and Vincent had been rather close, so I wouldn't expect any less a reaction."

"But I've never seen Cid act like that before; there's got to be something we're missing, something we can't see."

"Perhaps…the only thing we can do now is simply be there should the worst of our worries come true."

A blanket of silence draped over the room, only for a brief moment, until Tifa spoke again.

"Do you really think Vincent is going to die?"

At first, the dark-haired man could only soak in the surprise he felt being faced with a question such as that. He'd been confronted with some whoppers in his day, but very little he could think of that matched the devastation this would have on so many of his close friends.

"…I don't know, actually. I always thought Vincent would be here for a while, at least until our time had come, but now I'm not so sure."

Heavy droplets of rain pelted the window. It came as a surprise and captured both their attention, but they knew couldn't sit in the hallway forever in the thick silence that once again overwhelmed the atmosphere. Reeve was fully aware that Tifa still had some things to take care of and wouldn't hold her back as it was getting late on top that. She was already passed the point of being tired from crying and worrying all day, and he was utterly exhausted from the long trip - it would be time to sleep soon, even if sleep seemed too far to reach.

They spoke only a few words of goodbye for the night, slipping into the darkness to their designated rooms. Despite the fact that Reeve was a busy man, he would ignore his duties for the time being; much too preoccupied with the heavy gray, daunting cloud that hung over the town of Wutai. He would stay for a few days, at least; after that, there was no telling what plans he would make next.

- -

_I'm not sure where I am - It's dark here._

_The soil is cold and wet under my feet. Wait, soil? _

_I'm outside, running. What for? And from what?_

_My muscles burn. My heart is beating like a hammer against metal in my chest. Large droplets of rain are pelting me. They sting, even. I can hear the crack of thunder tremble behind me. This place feels real._

_How can that be?_

_I don't understand this at all._

_A bolt of lightning strikes somewhere, but a flash is all I see. _

_There are trees everywhere; I'm in a forest. Something is not right._

_My body, my clothes are completely soaked. I start to shiver as I slow my pace. The cold reaches my bones within seconds._

_It is too dark to see anything now, or where I've ended up. I can only hope for another strike to give me some clue, but the flash does not come, only the deafening crack of thunder overhead. _

_It rattles me and I jump slightly, still standing in the heavy downpour with not a clue in my head._

_This is not like the last time._

_Was I running from Chaos?_

_Where is he now?_

_Why can't I see him?_

_None of this makes sense to me; my only hope is to continue forward._

_Whichever way that is, I follow it until the ground under my feet gives way. I'm startled at first, but have little time to react once my body goes completely weightless. _

_I'm falling, though not for long._

_My foot catches a rock and sends me into a spin._

_A split second passes and now I'm tumbling down a steep hill._

_Only a brief moment goes by, yet it seems like forever without the luxury of sight. I am in the darkness again and the flash I've been waiting for strikes just before I hit the ground._

_I think I hear a familiar voice - Chaos, maybe?_

_It hurts too much to focus._

_For now, I'll sleep._


	14. 14

**14**

It was her duty, after enthusiastically volunteering for the job, to check on the ailing visitor now that uncertainty was the only sure thing they could rely on; to make sure he was still breathing, first and foremost, and if need be, treat any visible symptoms. With a small bowl filled with cold water in both hands, and a dry rag to care for his fever, Yuffie snuck quietly down the hall towards Vincent's room.

The clock struck midnight as she slipped inside the door, softly chiming its tune. Everyone had already settled in and gone to bed, even Cid, she noticed, who had fallen asleep in a big chair close to the gunman. Despite the fact that he was a loud, brash and offensive old man, he looked rather peaceful when he was asleep, so the young girl would do her best not to wake him if she could.

With the drape drawn shut, it was too dark to see much of anything in the large room. Yuffie first set the bowl down on a stand next to the bed before pulling aside one of the drapes to allow moonlight to shine in. Once she tied it to hang from a neatly placed, decorative hook on the wall, the moment her eyes met the empty bed, Yuffie cried loudly, waking the man in the chair.

Immediately, Cid jumped upright and ran towards her. He was much too disoriented from having just been jerked out of a sound sleep, and didn't realize what had caused her to scream like that, but her eyes never left the empty mattress…

_Empty_…? Cid thought. _That can't be right._

"Where is he?!" Yuffie shouted, not bothering to keep her voice down.

"I don't…he was here the last time I-"

From behind, the door flew open with a loud crack and both Tifa, Reeve and a few handmaids appeared in response to the young girl's shrieking.

"What's going on?" Reeve asked with a frown. Tifa, conversely, walked in with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth, much too shocked to speak. The lights overhead illuminated the room to confirm the mystery - Vincent was indeed gone.

"I just came in to check on him like I was supposed to; Cid was asleep on the chair over there, and then I saw this…"

"But how could this be?" Tifa wondered aloud. "I thought Vincent was--"

"We all thought that," the dark-haired man interjected. Luckily for the lot of them, he had managed to remain collected enough despite the emergency of the situation. "Since we've all confirmed that this is not a dream, we've got to assume Vincent has moved himself and is still out there."

"He's right," Yuffie agreed, moving towards the door. "I'll have everyone search the palace for him. We should probably have some people check around the town's perimeter, just in case."

- -

_An old man told me he'd seen what I've been looking for, running to the trees.  
He pauses to unfurl what sits in his palm as my heart races at a deadly speed.  
Eyes shoot wildly back and forth, but he has something else to say.  
Why do I stand there when I want to flee?  
Maybe what I hear him speak is a warning; too far away to hear those words.  
I hear them constantly.  
They come from behind, drown out by the low hum of an endless rain.  
I cannot see where the trail will take me, yet I run anyway.  
A white hot fire burns outward from the core, the light of day seems so far away.  
Gray skies beam vividly with a flash of light, and thunder makes its way in.  
I feel a loss out there.  
What am I searching for?  
What will I find when I arrive?  
That is no matter to be concerned with; for the truth will be revealed in due time, somehow, someway.  
I've got to find him.  
Run, run, run, run.__Run, run, run, run.  
Run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run…_

"WAIT!" a voice screamed.

In a clearing, the clouds above broke open if only for a brief moment. He could see the stars in the night sky, the moon's light framing the contour of gray silhouettes; the rain had stopped.

"Wait!" she huffed, running towards him. At that moment, he realized he had no idea how he'd ended up in the middle of nowhere so quickly, but Cid was not about ready to stop just because the brat couldn't keep up. She knew her way around those trees, which was why they had been paired in the first place - Reeve went with Tifa, while another group scoured the other side of the land - and she could find her way back if need be. "There's nothing but a river down there," Yuffie said, finally having caught her breath. "With this rain, it's probably overflowing by now…you couldn't get down that way, anyway. S'too dangerous…"

Cid said nothing in response as his eyes drew back to the river. It wasn't visible, but he could hear it, rushing from all the newly fallen rain. Again, the sky closed over them and the droplets fell even harder this time. They were both soaked on top of already being drenched by the first downpour. For a moment, the pilot waited, looking for a sign to tell him what to do.

"I gotta go down there," he said, glancing back at the young girl.

"You can't! You'll be swept away!"

He began to walk towards it in spite of those words, and Yuffie followed.

She grabbed his wrist to emphasize her caution, but he only stopped for the edge. In the darkness, Cid is forced to squint - at first there is nothing, and then…

"Vincent."

She released her grip the moment she felt a hand push her back, but never stumbles. Yuffie, having easily regained her balance, ran back to the edge to watch as Cid, amazingly, scaled the steep, rocky terrain - almost losing his balance at one point, no doubt coming back with a few scrapes and bruises - but for the most part, alive and well. When Cid reached the bottom, however, her vision is forced to fade in the darkness.

Dangerously close to the water moving swiftly behind, Cid fell to his knees in the sand, which was now mud from all the rain, and grabbed the man's arms to pull him into a tight embrace.

"Oh God," he sighed. It felt good to say that, to release the bad thoughts from his mind. "_Vince_…" Cid squeezed even tighter, reveling in the feel of the man in his arms. It was like a dream, completely surreal to hold the man who once was on the verge, teetering off the edge. But there was something the pilot noticed that he hadn't before. He pulled back a bit and cupped Vincent's face in his hands. When he tried to look into those eyes, Cid could not find the bright gaze he'd hoped to - it was gone, extinguished, replaced with a dull haze.

"Hey, Vincent," Cid said softly, yet loud enough that he knew the man could hear over the roar of the rushing river.

There was no answer.

"Vince?"

Quite obviously Vincent was still alive, for he was breathing, upright and on his own, but there was nothing Cid could see behind those eyes that told him this was not just a dream.

With one last desperate attempt, the pilot grabbed Vincent's arms and shook him as if that physical jolt would work any better. It was worth a try, at least, save for slapping the man across the face, which he would do if it was the last thing he had to rely on.

"God dammit, _answer me!_" Cid shouted and pulled Vincent back into another tight embrace.

The short lived sense of relief he felt quickly turned into a nightmare. Suddenly, the rain seemed colder; the night, longer. The body in his arms, he noticed, was devoid of any warmth he once felt before - or so he thought.

He felt the tips of fingers ghost slowly across his back, and soon, fists that clenched at the material of his shirt. Cid gasped softly at the unexpected reaction, but hesitated to do anything for fear that he might wake up. When that did not happen, he pulled away once more, taking hold of Vincent's arms and this time, locked eyes with the gunman.

"Vince?"

There seemed to be a spark there - it was all he needed.

Again, and for as long as he could until Yuffie made her way down, Cid wrapped his arms around Vincent, simply happy.


	15. 15

**Elude**

I was the one who helped him back up that cliff. I was the one who made sure he got in the back of that truck. I even rode all the way to Wutai by his side, which, was quite far now that I could think clearly – somewhat, at least. I didn't make a big deal out the fact that they took him from me, either. Knowing that Vincent needed care and as soon as possible, I knew he would live to see another day, but I couldn't help feeling that he was slipping out of my grasp once more.

To be honest, I was getting pretty fed up with not being able to accompany them into the room; the most I'd be doing was take up space in the corner – nothing more troublesome than a lamp or a chair, and they were just for fucking decoration. It was no use trying to argue my point once they pushed me away without hearing my pleas. But as luck would have it, I didn't have to wait long in the hallway before someone came out.

Tifa shut the door softly behind her; she looked to be in a hurry.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"He wants to go back to Edge."

Immediately, a frown pulled at my face. "He _what…_?"

"I don't know," Tifa sighed, running a hand through her hair. She knew the situation exactly, knew that was the complete opposite of what Vincent said he wanted, but she was merely the messenger. "I don't know what this change of heart is all about. Things are different now; he seems to be capable of making conscious decisions and asked for Reeve so that's who I've got to find."

"Reeve," I muttered to myself, feeling a bit offended by that.

"I guess he's made up his mind." Without doddling any longer, Tifa excused herself to find the other man and left me behind in the hallway to soak in the news.

_First he confides in me, relies on me and now this? Vincent is drifting away…_

I was pissed to say the least, but had little time to sulk over the fact when Reeve, who seemed to be just as surprised as the rest of us, asked if I would chauffer them back to Edge in the ship. There was no way I could refuse, despite, after boarding and departure, learning another shocking bit of information. When we arrived in the city, Vincent would be admitted to a company-exclusive health provider.

It was the icing on the cake and my motivation to find out just exactly what was going through his head, until my first attempt to speak to the gunman went sour. On my way to his room, I ran into Tifa who advised against bothering him seeing as how he wouldn't be able to speak anyway. Vincent had, understandably, passed out from the stress of recent events. Couldn't blame him for wanting to get a bit of _real_ rest after all he'd been through, so I figured I would wait until a more suitable time. That time never came, though, when they carted him off as soon as we landed a few hours later, earlier than expected thanks to a tail wind.

Everything and everyone around me moved so quickly that it was hard to define one thing from another. How I had landed the ship safely went over my head, and when I'd arrived at my office was anybody's guess.

Inside, I found that a few papers had been neatly arranged but left out for my sake. I remembered talking to Reeve just moments before I rushed to find Vincent…I'd left in such a hurry; left everything behind and all for him. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat. But what unsettled me the most was just how fast he was taken from me – twice, no less.

With the tips of my fingers I gently brushed them over the papers that littered my desk. I would have to get back to work sooner or later, but now was not the time. I felt sick to my stomach, felt like punching out a wall, felt like just holding Vincent in my arms, yet I couldn't. I would have to get out of there.

Just as quickly as I'd arrived I left the office and, as I made my way outside of the building – deserted, seeing as how it was Sunday – I knew I couldn't go home just yet either.

There was only one place that sounded reasonable, one place I knew could help me escape for a while. That's all I was asking for, anyway.

* * *

(**Author's Note**: So this is where Life and Death leaves off to continue with...IT'S SEQUEL! gasp Yes, folks, that's right. I've been mulling over the idea of a sequel for some time now, so that's what's gonna happen. I'm not 100 sure of what the title is going to be, but for some reason "New Beginnings" has really stuck out in my mind. I'll stay with that one for now just so you guys know what you're looking for. Anyway, don't hate me too much for leaving you guys _yet again_ at another cliffhanger (I know, I'm horrible!); the sequel should be up within a few days.)


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